Dark Days
by coley501
Summary: In a world where Angels and Demons exist, Chuck has taken on a dark path
1. Chapter 1

**author's note: I do not own chuck and no breach of copyright is intended. **

Date: 08/10/2012

Time: 23:30

The night was cold, unusually so, but Chuck Bartowski did not shiver. The chill was nothing to do with the temperature so shivering would do no good. He was standing in the shadowy recess between shipping containers and was all but invisible to human eyes. Of course, Chuck wasn't worried about human eyes.

Minutes passed and Chuck stood perfectly still, giving no indication that he was there. Eventually, Chuck's quarry appeared. Chuck heard him coming several minutes before he saw him, his footsteps echoing through the storage facility. The man did not appear to notice that he was being watched and walked straight up to one of the containers. He unlocked the heavy padlock and swung open the heavy door. The groaning as metal scraped across metal grated against the quiet of the night.

The container was empty, Chuck had seen to that.

"It's just so frustrating when you go to all those lengths to hide someone and then one day they just disappear," said Chuck. He had moved directly behind the man, into the dim light provided by a street lamp.

The man spun round and Chuck got his first good look him. The man was quite short and there was the look of fear about him; it was in his eyes and in the way he gripped the torch in his hand.

"What did you do with them?" he asked. There was a rage in his voice that seemed contradictory to the fear in his demeanour.

Chuck shrugged non-committally and said, "I opened the door. They seemed quite keen to leave."

"You did what?" the small man said, taking a step forward. The rage seemed to be taking dominance over the fear. Chuck stood his ground.

"What?" Chuck replied, "You thought you were the only kid on the block? You thought that nobody was watching?"

The man was shaking now. "You could at least have left one! Do you know what it's like for me?"

The small man lunged at Chuck, the rage having taken over now. Strangely, the man seemed bigger now; not physically bigger but almost like there was more than just him there, like what you could see was just the tip of the iceberg.

Strangely, Chuck was no longer there and the man was left alone on the cold concrete. The man stared at his empty hands, confusion creasing his brows. Barely a moment passed and the confusion became fear. He was afraid once again.

Suddenly he noticed that Chuck was standing several meters away, rolling up the sleeves of his coat to above the elbow.

"I'm sorry," the man stammered. The look in Chuck's eyes told him that the apology would do no good.

"I'm going to send you back to hell," Chuck informed him and suddenly an iron hard fist smashed into the man's face. As suddenly as he appeared, Chuck was gone again, now on the other side of the man.

"And when you get there, you're going to deliver a message for me," Chuck carried on. He was unscrewing a glass bottle. He tossed the contents at the small man and he let out a bloodcurdling shriek. He collapsed onto the floor, writhing in agony.

Chuck lifted the man up off the floor and drops of liquid splashed onto Chuck's bare arms. Where the liquid hit, it left small burns that smoked slightly. Chuck grimaced and landed a devastating uppercut to the man's chin. Chuck let go of him as he did and the man was sent flying by the blow.

"I need you to ask Lucifer where I might find the intersect," commanded Chuck as he walked over to the still body of the man.

"What makes you think I could ever get near to Lucifer? You will need to exorcise someone more important than me if you want Lucifer to notice you. There is no reason to kill this human body."

"Just say that Charles Carmichael sent you," answered Chuck, "you would be surprised what that can achieve."

And just like that, Chuck Bartowski stabbed the minor demon through the heart with a silver dagger.

**Thanks for reading. Please review**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: I don't own Chuck and no copyright infringement is intended.**

**For those that read the first chapter before I made the addition, please note that the events of chapter 1 took place at 23:30 hours on 08/10/2012**

Date: 08/10/2012

Time: 21:00

Agent Walker could really hate her job sometimes. Actually, she always hated her job, but sometimes she really loathed it. Today was one of those days.

"So, that's really all there is to it," explained the man sitting across the table from her. His name was, apparently, George and he was leaning towards her more than he should be. They were supposed to be on a date – although someone as mundane looking as George would never stand a chance with the leggy blonde that was Sarah Walker – and some leaning forward was expected, but even so, there was too much lean.

"You're too modest," replied Sarah. In all honesty she had no idea what he was talking about. Her conscious mind had wondered as soon the date had started and she relied entirely on her instincts to provide the appropriate yet boring responses that lead to George maintaining most of the conversation. Sarah knew what the leaning forward meant along with the hungry look in his eye; she could practically smell the demon inside him. He wanted to consume her soul in order to maintain his hold on reality.

"I could show you if you want," George said eagerly. Sarah almost laughed at the pathetic attempt. To an uninformed observer it would simply look like he was trying to get her into bed. An uninformed observer would also probably be surprised or impressed that he was succeeding because the short man really had nothing going for him. It wasn't that he was particularly unattractive – if you were to see a photo of him you wouldn't notice it – but he seemed weak and more than a little pathetic. He was exactly the type of individual that would attract a lessor demon.

"You'd do that for me?" gushed Sarah, almost overdoing it. Sarah had read the file on George Wisham but she could have written his backstory based on a photo. His life had been decidedly average. He hadn't done particularly well at school and wasn't good at sport. He had never found love and never really felt any loss. His parents were dead but not because of anything dramatic; a heart attack and a stroke had killed them. He hadn't mourned their passing. Then one day he realised that he was middle-aged and after being rejected by yet another pretty 30 something woman on a dating website he became bitter at the world. A lessor demon approached him and promised him power and the deal was done.

"Yeah, of course," answered George, "we'd have to go back to my place but it's. It's down by the docks."

Sarah eagerly nodded, careful not to exaggerate her enthusiasm too much, and they got their coats. She took one last look at the dingy bar – she would not be coming back here if she had anything to say about it – and they stepped outside into the night.

It was drizzling, a pathetic fallacy of the mission at hand, and neither of them had brought an umbrella. It didn't matter too much as Sarah's hair wasn't particularly well made; it hadn't been necessary to reel in the mark and she hadn't wanted to overwhelm him. George didn't seem to notice the dismal weather – it was possible that he couldn't tell – and started walking in the direction of the waterfront. It amused Sarah that he didn't offer to get a cab and seemed to expect that she would follow him. It was no surprise why he had not had much luck with the ladies. The pace was quick, which pleased Sarah as it meant that she could get the mission over and done with more quickly.

George talked some more about whatever topic was supposed to have got Sarah excited and she continued to make inoffensive and empty answers. Her conscious mind became more alert to the matter at hand as the streets got smaller and darker. Surely they must be nearly there. Finally, they turned into the storage facility next to the docks and Sarah knew that they had reached their destination. The lessor demon must have been hiding his captors in one of the shipping containers.

"Well Sarah, it's been lovely," George said, "but I'm afraid to say that you've been duped."

He actually looked a little bit less boring now that he was grinning in victory.

"I don't understand," lied Sarah.

"You see, I don't really have a yacht," explained George, "I just needed to lure you away."

Seriously? They had spent the last two hours discussing their mutual love for boats? It was funny that they had both been lying.

"Lure me away?" Sarah said, adding more confusion to her voice.

George nodded and then hit her with a crowbar.

**As before, please review :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: I don't own Chuck and no copyright infringement in intended.**

**Please note that I am changing the content to mature from this chapter onwards.**

Date: 09/10/2012

Time: 00:00

"You're going to talk Mr. Carmichael," said agent Walker, "that much we both know."

Sarah looked up at her captive, bound to the wall with a metal chain. Chuck looked back down at her, no expression on his face, and said nothing in response.

"All you have to do is answer my questions with honesty and you can escape a considerable amount of pain."

Chuck still said nothing.

"Where is the intersect?" demanded Sarah.

"What makes you think that I know where it is?"

Sarah sighed dramatically – it was all part of her reluctant interrogator act – and pretended to ponder for a moment over which weapon to use. She settled on a small silver knife.

"That was the wrong answer, Mr. Carmichael," agent Walker replied hotly. She closed the gap between them in a single stride and pressed the knife up against Chuck's neck. "Where is the intersect?"

"I don't know."

"Listen to me," Sarah tried to explain, "I really don't want to have to torture you, but you have to understand that I will use everything in my skill-set to get the information out of you. Let's try it again: where is the intersect?"

"I don't know."

Sarah pulled back, shaking her head slightly, and turned to walk away. Suddenly she spun round and slammed the knife into the palm of Chuck's left hand. Chuck's eyes widened and he grunted but gave no other indication that he was in pain. For a moment, Sarah seemed horrified at what she had done but the look of pain in her eyes disappeared after barely a second. She quickly turned away and moved to the other end of the shipping container. She paced for about a minute.

"Sarah, you don't have to do this," Chuck spoke.

"Don't!" snarled Sarah, snapping out of her introspective stance, "just don't."

"Chuck opened his mouth but didn't say anything, as Sarah strode over to Chuck and pulled the knife out of his hand. He gasped as the blade slid out of his palm.

"Where is the intersect?" demanded Sarah.

"I don't know," insisted Chuck.

Sarah plunged the knife into Chuck's other hand.

"Where is the intersect?" bellowed Sarah.

"I don't know!" Chuck bellowed back, his voice cracking under the pain of his wounded hands.

"I wish I knew," Chuck admitted. There was a tear rolling down his cheek and Sarah suspected that it wasn't anything to do with the pain.

"Why do you want the intersect?" asked Sarah.

Chuck gave her an incredulous look. It was so Chuck-like that Sarah found her defenses lowering.

"Chuck?"

"Why do you think?" answered Chuck, his voice barely a whisper, like he didn't dare speak out loud for fear of being heard.

Sarah stared at him with amazement for a moment but then snapped out of it.

"Oh you almost had me convince," mocked Sarah, "you are so, so close to getting the act right."

Chuck dropped eye contact and stared at the floor. The way he was strung up actually made it difficult to keep his head level. He didn't say anything.

Sarah pulled the knife out of Chuck's right hand and backed away.

"You think you can win?" asked Sarah as she studied the set of implements set up on the table. Her torture instruments weren't as impressive as some she'd seen but the array of intricately designed silver knives would get the job done. She briefly wished that she had paid more attention to John Casey when he'd been discussing torture techniques.

"What was it that you thought?" she asked as picked up her chose device. It was a long, serrated knife that was almost long enough to be a sword. She knew that its blade was very sharp.

"You thought, perhaps, that I had not suffered enough," Sarah said bitterly as she plunged the knife into Chuck's abdomen.

"That it wasn't sufficient that you killed the love of my life," she continued speaking and carried on pushing until the knife was buried in Chuck's body as far as the hilt. Chuck lost all pretense and screamed from the top of his lungs.

"So you thought that you would come back and torture me a little more," Sarah finished.

Sarah pulled the knife out of Chuck's stomach in a single swift motion, leaving a gaping wound in its place. Blood flowed out of the wound and onto the floor. Sarah staggered back, a look of shock on her face and one hand covering her mouth. She hadn't intended to do that. She, Sarah Walker the cold-blooded, emotionless killer, had killed her only lead in a fit of rage and passion. This would take some explaining.

**Thanks for reading. Please review, I find it really helpful and/or encouraging.**

**I hope it wasn't too confusing. I plan to fill in what's happened between chapters 1, 2 and 3 in the future. If anyone does review can you please give feedback on the non linear nature of the story. Does it add suspense or is it just irritating?**

**Thanks.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: I don't own Chuck and no copyright infringement is intended.**

**Thanks for the reviews. I've tried to answer some of the questions in this chapter (although by no mean all of them) so I hope its less confusing.**

Date: 08/20/2012

Time: 22:00

Sarah woke with a start and took a moment to take in her surroundings as best as she could. It was utterly dark, not just the dark blue of the night with its low level lighting from the stars and the moon, but entirely devoid of light. The floor she was lying on was cold and ridged, and Sarah deduced that it was the metal floor of a shipping container. That one didn't take a genius to figure out.

The container was quiet but not silent. There was the sound of somebody else in the container with her. The breathing was very quiet and came out as ragged breaths, interrupted occasionally with a gentle sob. Sarah suspected that it was a child judging by sound of it, and one who had been in the container for more than a few hours.

Sarah fumbled around for a second, trying to ignore the thumping in her head as she found her torch. She pressed the on button and blinding light poured into the small container, accompanied by a splitting headache. Sarah touched a hand to her forehead, feeling the bloody wound. It was still slick with blood. It had bleed freely – she could feel the dried blood on her face – but it was relatively small and she'd live.

Sarah's suspicions were confirmed now that she could see. She was clearly on the inside of a shipping container or, as her paranoid side reminded her, someone wanted her to think she was on the inside of a shipping container. It couldn't have been more than three meters wide and six meters long and was nearly empty. The only two things in the container were a long metal chain and a small child whimpering in the corner.

Sarah walked towards the small girl but as she did the child flinched and withdrew even further into the corner.

"It's okay," soothed Sarah, "I'm here to help."

The girl peered up at her with large scared eyes. She didn't trust Sarah one bit and Sarah couldn't blame her considering all that she had been through.

Sarah sat down on the ground a couple of meters away from the girl attempting to bring herself down to the girl's level. She seemed to shrink even further into herself.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Sarah tried again, "I just want to make sure you're okay. My name's Sarah."

That finally seemed to get through to her.

"Molly," said the girl at a whisper.

"How long have you been here Molly?" asked Sarah but something distracted them before Molly could reply.

There were footsteps outside the container. They were soft but the night was quiet so Sarah's ears were finely tuned. Molly whimpered and squeezed her eyes shut so Sarah left her in the corner and hoped that she would stay there while she dealt with George. Sarah stood in roughly the centre of the container and puller her pistol out of her pocket. There was a rattle as the chains around the container's lock were removed and then with a groan the metal door that made up on wall slowly opened.

Sarah open fired with her gun and didn't stop shooting until she was empty. Instinctively she let out the spent magazine and slotted a new one into its place but didn't fire. The man in the doorway staggered backwards and crumpled to the floor. It took him just long enough for Sarah to realise that he was far too tall to be the lessor demon that had tried to kidnap her.

Sarah rushed over to the fallen man. She was concerned but still cautious. George hadn't had any accomplices so who was this man? He was face first on the ground with a pool of blood rapidly growing round him. He appeared dead.

"Shit," muttered Sarah and she holstered her gun. She grabbed the man by the shoulder and pulled him over, hoping to ID him.

"No!" gasped Sarah. The person she had just shot was Chuck Bartowski, a man who had died nearly two years ago and the love of Sarah Walker's life. Sarah just stared at the body in front of her. How could this have happened? There were so many questions.

Suddenly, Chuck gasped and started breathing. "Owww," he moaned. Sarah snapped out of her reverie and aimed her gun at his head.

Chuck looked at Sarah and his eyes widened, "boy this is going to take some explaining."

"You could say that!" replied Sarah. She still had her gun pointed towards him but looked unsure of what to do.

"Well, I'm not dead," started Chuck as he sat up. He checked his torso where he'd been short and seemed contented. There were bullet holes in his t-shirt but the skin underneath seemed undamaged.

"I gathered that much," interrupted Sarah, who now look less unsure and more angry, "why don't we start with why you're immune to bullets?"

"I, um, isn't it kind of obvious?"

Sarah sighed and her shoulders slumped slightly. Yes, it was obvious. There was only one way you could shrug off mortal wounds like that; being a demon host. It also explained how he had survived his death two years ago.

"Okay, then why shouldn't I just kill you where you sit?" asked Sarah.

"I don't suppose you'd be believe me if I told you that Chuck was still in control and not the demon?" tried Chuck.

Sarah laughed bitterly. The number of times they'd both heard that one, she was surprised that he'd try it. "No."

"In that case: Two, no three, reasons actually," explained Chuck. "Firstly, if we have a fight, you'd lose; secondly, we both want to kill the minor demon, making us allies; and finally, because of the intersect."

Chuck seemed deadly serious about all three points but he was obviously playing her.

"The intersect doesn't exist," retorted Sarah.

"Oh, it exists," replied Chuck, "and it is everything that we dreamt it could be."

"Fine, I'll help you," conceded Sarah, "but not for that pipe dream. I'm going to get Molly to safety while you deal with the lessor demon but when I'm done, I'm coming for you."

**Thanks for reading. I really appreciated the reviews from the last chapter so please continue.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: I don't own Chuck and copyright infringement is intended.**

Date: 09/10/2012

Time: 00:15

"You know," said Charles Carmichael, "that was." He paused. "That really stupid."

Sarah spun round. It had been roughly a minute since she had disembowelled Chuck with a silver knife. Silver, the one metal that could cause mortal wounds to a demon and she had used it as a torture device. Not a smart move. Then again, he appeared not to be too bothered by it.

"Shooting me and stabbing me and putting me in chains…" he seemed to be talking to himself now, it was more of a mutter. Suddenly he laughed.

"I mean, I'm Charles Carmichael." He laughed again.

"Charles Carmichael," he repeated, this time more slowly as if talking to someone who wasn't the brightest.

"Sweetheart," Carmichael said condescendingly, "do you know what that means?"

He laughed again but it was entirely devoid of humour.

"Even the devil himself is a little bit afraid of my name," he continued. He spat the words out in a fit of rage and stepped forward, passing straight through the iron chains like they were air. Sarah took a step back.

Charles paused for a moment and turned his head to look at the chains, one eyebrow raised.

"Could at least have used silver chains, or running water" he muttered to himself, "what are they teaching inquisitors these days?"

His eyes snapped back towards Sarah and he took a predatory step forward, a frightening hunger in his eyes.

"It means," Carmichael explained, going back to his earlier question, "that you shouldn't have been able to capture me."

"Did you not think that it was too easy?" he yelled.

"Did you not stop to think?" he asked quietly, placing emphasis on the end of the word 'think', "and now you shall pay for mistake."

Sarah took another involuntary step backwards and found herself up against the closed door of the shipping container. She quickly did the calculations – there would not be enough time to open the very heavy container door, she would have to fight.

Sarah pulled her small pistol out of its holder and open fired. Fear and adrenaline made her reactions fast but Carmichael didn't even bother reacting. The shots echoed around the container and the noise caused Sarah's ears to ring but not a single bullet actually hit Carmichael. Her shots had been accurate and he hadn't moved yet somehow they had all hit the wall behind him.

Charles Carmichael stepped forward and grabbed Sarah by the throat. She tried to push his hand away but he moved like lightening. He pushed her up against the door and into the air. Sarah struggled and clawed at his iron-like grip on her throat but nothing could dislodge him and her lungs were already starting to burn for air.

Carmichael laughed again, this time with real mirth in the sound.

"You still don't get it," he chucked, "if I wanted you dead you would already be dead."

"And while I so very much want to consume your soul, I don't think Chuck would approve."

Suddenly, his grip on her throat disappeared and Sarah sunk to the ground, gasping for air. The sudden rush of oxygen to her brain made her feel dizzy and Sarah was nearly sick. Instead she simply lay there for a moment.

"Wait? What?" Carmichael asked suddenly, with a worrying smile on his face, "Wh, what did he say? Chuck wouldn't approve? Who's ever given a damn what Chuck approves of?"

He nodded knowingly, "Yup. Things aren't what they seem."

"You see, the irony here is that up until a moment ago I wasn't in control," laughed Carmichael, "Chuck was, so to speak, in the driver's seat. Of course you pushed him too far and I just popped out to say hello."

Sarah stared up at him, dread and remorse filling her thoughts.

"Oh yes, you realise now what you did," spat Carmichael, "you tortured the man you loved, thinking it was me." He threw his head back and let out a cackle that sounded truly gleeful.

"Chuck I'm sorry," moaned Sarah, "I'm so, so sorry."

"He can't hear you sweetheart," replied Carmichael, "he might be in here somewhere but you can't reach him."

He sighed dramatically.

"So," spoke Carmichael, "how do I put this? Its, err, it rather embarrassing. You see, I… I need something that I can never have. I need the intersect. I need the intersect and Chuck here - and, and you - can get it for me."

"So, I let him drive from time to time with the promise that he helps me find the intersect. Once we do, we part ways like old friends and we never see each other again. I have no interest in possessing him for any longer than I have to."

"Why do you want the intersect?" Sarah finally managed to ask.

"Oh darling can't you work it out? I want to assassinate the devil."

**Thanks for reading and thanks to those who reviewed the previous chapters.**

**I actually have very few concrete ideas as to where this fiction is going (I found in my previous fanfic that I stopped writing it once I had planned what was going to happen in advance) which means that any feedback I get will really impact my writing of the story. Because of this, I really enjoy reading the reviews. So, please take the opportunity to leave your mark :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's note: I don't own Chuck. No copyright infringement is intended.**

Date: 08/10/2012

Time: 23:40

Agent Walker looked down the scope of her crossbow as she put in the small earpiece that would allow her to hear as well as see her target.

"What?" she heard Carmichael say, "You thought you were the only kid on the block? You thought that nobody was watching?"

She adjusted the distance on her range-finder and kept an eye on the wind gauge. She wasn't that far away from Carmichael but crossbows weren't known for their long range accuracy. She angled the bow so she could see the lessor demon and hear him speak.

"You could at least have left one! Do you know what it's like for me?" the demon cried.

Sarah suppressed a chuckle. Yes, Carmichael knew exactly what it was like for him. The thought briefly distracted her and she lost track of what was going on. Her mind was taken up by images of Chuck, her sweet and innocent Chuck, draining the soul out of some small child in a dark back alley. No, that thing wasn't Chuck. It might have Chuck's body but there was a demon where he should have a soul. It was better that she thought of him as dead. It would be better if he were.

Sarah was brought back to reality by a sudden movement. The lessor demon had lunged at Chuck. The demon had gathered up what Sarah suspected was all of its power and placed it behind the movement. The move stank of desperation and Carmichael would have seen it coming a mile off. If she had been paying attention, Sarah would have too.

Chuck, no Carmichael, was gone before the demon had even started moving. Sarah had never seen anyone or anything shadow walk quite that effectively. It was a fairly common ability for anything but the weakest of demons but Carmichael used it so well that Sarah swore quietly under her breath. That changed things somewhat.

Sarah opened her small pack and pulled out a new crossbow bolt and pair of goggles. She placed the large crossbow bolt into the crossbow, put on the pair of goggles and went back to watching the fight.

"What makes you think I could ever get near to Lucifer?" she heard the lessor demon whine, "You will to exorcise someone more important than me if you want Lucifer to notice you. There is no reason to kill this human body."

His pathetic attempt to reason with Carmichael held no sway and Carmichael replied with a smug, "Just say that Charles Carmichael sent you. You would be surprised what that can achieve," and stabbed the lessor demon through the heart.

The demon died with little ceremony or drama. When Sarah had first started hunting demons she had assumed that you would see the demon leaving the host's body like a wisp of smoke or that the host's body would age rapidly and decay to a set of bones in mere seconds. None of that happened; he simply died.

That was Sarah's cue for action and she squeezed the trigger on her crossbow. The first bolt launched forward into the small clearing but shattered into a dozen smaller pieces that scattered all around Carmichael. Just as they clattered to the ground each one lit up to produce a brilliant white light, causing the many shadows to retreat away. Sarah grinned a grim smile; no shadows meant no shadow walking.

Carmichael glanced up and frowned just as Sarah fired another crossbow bolt at him. This one hit him with precision, right in the neck. Carmichael screamed in pain and ripped the bolt from his body but it was too late. The bolt was actually a syringe containing holy water – the very same liquid that he had used against the lessor demon earlier – and it had injected its deadly contents right into Carmichael's bloodstream. Sarah sighed in relief, that was entire supply of holy water and if she had missed she would have been in trouble. Chuck convulsed in pain and dropped to his knees, still screaming and Sarah's eyes widened in horror. His image flickered a few times – a sign that he was trying to shadow walk – but he remained on the ground.

"No," Sarah whispered to herself as she dragged Chuck's whimpering form towards the shipping container, "it's not Chuck."

**Thanks for the reviews :)**

**I have just started a new job so I won't be able to update it very quickly but they'll keep coming**


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